SYNOPSISThe team owner/head coach relationship can be a tenuous one at times. Isabelle Lancourt can testify to just how stressful it can be. Ever since her husband passed away, leaving her his beloved Wildcats, she and Philip Moore have been at loggerheads. When the opportunity to sign a Russian hotshot presents itself, Isabelle leaps at the chance to prove herself as more than just a pretty face. Dealing with hot flashes, salary caps, and trade deadlines she can handle with ease. The aftermath of an ill-advised, but erotically superb, rendezvous in Siberia with the handsomely annoying Coach Moore? That was not in any Wildcats playbook. Can Isabelle and Philip handle the changes life is about to throw at them? Or will combining their personal and professional lives prove to be a misconduct penalty that the league simply cannot overlook?

EXCERPT PG:“I hate to be termed over-reactionary or whiny bitch,” I opened with. The man crammed into a seat two sizes too small for him mumbled something unintelligible across the thin aisle. “And far be it for me to complain, but I think the left wing is about to fall off.”Within a heartbeat Moore was out of his seat and leaning across me. My nose was burrowed into his shirt pocket. That brisk seafaring scent he wore wrapped its arms around my olfactory to hug my sense of smell tightly. I drew in a deep breath, held it, tasted the tang of cologne and man, then exhaled through my mouth. Philip shifted a bit.“Sorry,” he murmured, his bulk sliding downward a bit, so that his stomach rested on the rickety arm of my mouse-chewed seat. “I think it’s just the bounce of the plane over the turbulence,” he announced after a long, and not unpleasant, moment of his abdomen brushing my breasts. When I made a weak sound of hope in reply, he glanced from the window to me, a small twist of a smile playing on his lips. The impact of our positions hit me like a cinderblock to the head. His mouth was mere inches from mine now. I could see him swallow roughly. His jaw and neck were dark with new whiskers. I wanted to feel the rasp of his stubble on my neck, breasts, and inside my thighs. I wanted. Oh, hell yes, I wanted.The blue of his irises darkened as I studied my reflection in his eyes. Was it desire I saw, or something else profound and powerful? Love and hate share lots of secrets, being such close friends as they are. The plane hit a ball of violent air. My head coach nearly went to his knees in front of me. My fingers dug even deeper into the arms of my seat. Philip gathered himself quickly, wiggling from the space between my knees and the crummy seat in front of me.“Sorry,” he coughed, hurrying back to his own seat. I nodded, neck tight, spine stiff, heart hammering, and thighs twitching. “You remind me of Christine,” he said out of the blue. I managed to make my head creak around to look at him. The man was in control once again. Wish I could be so quick to move from one frightening thing to another. Shit, I was still freaking out about the way my body responded to his. “She didn’t mind flying until we hit turbulence,” he explained, wistfully.“Every time we would run into a rough patch, her eyes would grow bigger.” He paused to find me looking at him. “She had these wide eyes anyway, so she always looked surprised,” he clarified. I nodded, knowing how important talking about our lost ones is. “Anyway, when she would feel the slightest jounce up she would go, eyes as big as basketballs, and into the ladies’ room she would dash. Once, on a flight down to Florida to see our youngest son Drew when he was in college, Christine spent the entire flight in the bathroom.” He chuckled in amusement. The sound was incredibly pleasing. My anxiety lessened a bit. “I used to tease her about the well-known safety features of a ladies’ powder room during a plane crash. Sometimes our fears get the best of us, though. She knew she was just as screwed as everyone else on that plane, but something about that cramped little girls’ room made her feel less vulnerable, I suppose.”“Colton used to say ‘There ain’t no point in fretting about dying. If the good Lord says it’s your time, then it’s your time, darling!” I tossed out in my best Texan accent. Philip laughed uneasily.“That sounds like Colton,” he said, running his palms over his thighs briskly. I wanted to ask him how he had dealt with his wife’s death. I knew she had passed a few years back from cancer, leaving him and their two grown sons to carry on. “He was a good man. He’s sorely missed.”

R:“I knocked several times. When you didn’t answer I got worried,” Philip said. There was some difficulty with my thought synapses. They felt listless. I threw my legs off the bed. Philip stepped back. Leaning forward to rest my face in my hands, my forehead brushed the smooth material of his pant leg. The man hissed lightly. I gasped at the explosion of need that erupted deep inside my core. I stood up, just now realizing I had slept in my muddy flats and muted purple suit. My mind was sluggish.We stood within a foot of each other. I slid out of my shoes. I observed him as he watched my feet emerge from my flats. It was funny, actually. I mean, I have taken my shoes off in a thousand different places over my lifetime, but never once has it been that erotic. If I lived to be as old as my mother I will never be able to explain what overtook us. Without warning, preamble, or a word spoken I was in his arms, my fingers moving through his neatly combed hair, his mouth slanted over mine.It was as if my stepping out of my little purple flats had been some symbolic gesture. What kind of gesture? Who knows? Certainly not me, because all I knew was that I needed Philip Moore inside of me more than I had never needed anything else in my life. To hell with the ramifications of this ill-advised tryst! I felt sexy again, for the first time in years a man was hot, hard, and ready to screw me. Yes, screw, not make love. The word suited the insane, hot, wet kiss we were sharing just as it would suit the act itself. Right now, I wanted to be screwed, and by someone who knew how. I needed to be thrown to the bed by a man lost to his overwhelming desire to have me.I never saw the bed, which is just as well considering how many other people had used it for the same lusty act. Philip danced me backward until my shoulder blades and ass hit the wall. I could feel the music pulsating through the plasterboard and timbers at my back. The kiss never broke as we tangoed across the bedroom, not even when I hit the wall, and then exhaled in surprise sharply. Philip just inhaled my breath.His hands were on my breasts, then they were on my hips, then they were in my hair. His tongue roamed inside my mouth, over my lips, along my jaw, and down my throat. I gyrated against him. His prick jumped behind the material holding it caged. If I said things, and I rather assume I did, I don’t know what I said. He didn’t speak much, either. He was too busy pushing my blazer, blouse, and bra up to talk. When he had them bared, he did take a scant second to murmur how sexy my nipples were.“Lovely and dark,” he purred before capturing one of the mahogany tips between his teeth. Some wild force broke free as I watched his white teeth toying with my stiff nipple. I gouged at his scalp with my nails as I pushed my weeping cleft against his erection. He moaned around my nipple. His hand danced down between us, seeking, then finding, my satin panties. The man certainly knew his way around a woman’s body. He released my left nipple, blew over the turgid tip, then took half my right breast into his mouth as his fingers located my stiff clitoris through my underwear.It had been so long…

ABOUT THE AUTHORV.L. Locey loves worn jeans, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted goofy domestic fowl,and two steers: one named after a famous N.H.L. goalie while the other carries the moniker of a 60s pop legend. When not writing spicy romances, she can be found enjoying her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills sf Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.I love to meet new friends and fans! You can find me at-~Blog~Facebook~Twitter~Pinterest~Goodreads~

SYNOPSISIt’s time to drop the gloves and fight! Support the Fight against cancer that is. This anthology of 8 brand new novellas is hot enough to melt the ice these players skate on. Featuring stories from popular New York Times & USA Today, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble bestselling authors, including Toni Aleo, Cassandra Carr, Cindy Carr, Jami Davenport, Catherine Gayle, Jaymee Jacobs, V.L. Locey, Bianca Sommerland, and Nikki Worrell.

TANGLED IN THE LACESBy New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author – Toni Aleo

In Tangled in the Laces, Karson King is on the fast track to the pros and Lacey Martin is coming back from a hard fight against cancer and is terrified of him but their love is too much to ignore. Will Karson prove that he will protect her heart at all costs, or will he leave Lacey to pick up the pieces of her life once again?

HOOKING HANNAHBy Cassandra Carr and Cindy Carr

When Hannah attends an all-star game, she doesn't expect a hockey player of all people to turn her world upside down. Her sister is married to a player and Hannah never wanted that life. But Scott could change everything. For Scott's part, he has to know the woman who stirred his blood with just a look, and once he does, he realizes he wants Hannah to be his forever. Now to convince her...

CRASHING THE BOARDS (Seattle Sockeyes 1.5)By Jami Davenport

Professional party crasher, Izzy Maxwell, needs the cooperation of reluctant party guest Cooper Black, the team captain of Seattle’s new hockey team, but Cooper can’t get past his anger over the team’s relocation to Seattle. Can Izzy melt Cooper’s frozen heart or will this party crash along with her fledgling business?

TAKING A SHOT (Portland Storm 2.5)By Catherine Gayle

Katie Weber has had a crush on Jamie Babcock for almost two years, since he joined her father’s hockey team, the Portland Storm as an eighteen-year-old rookie. When cancer takes her health, her hair, and even her friends, she can’t bear to go to senior prom…until Jamie intervenes.

A VALUABLE TRADE By Jaymee Jacobs

Bryan's life gets turned upside down when he gets traded to the Dallas Comets, and things get even messier when he meets Georgiana, the Director of Team Services. He's got a lot of work to do to prove his worth to his new team, but Georgiana's sure he'll prove to be a valuable trade.

HEIR APPARENTBy V.L. Locey

Superstar Cam Evans is fighting to climb out of a slump that`s growing worse with each day of living in denial. Fresh from the minors, Jacobi Neal is hungry for this chance to play back-up for the legendary goalie. Can two men battle each other, their inner demons, and the sizzling attraction building between them?

BLIND PASS (The Dartmouth Cobras 0.5)By Bianca Sommerland

Nothing could stop Tim Rowe, the assistant coach of the Dartmouth Cobras, from falling in love with Madeline, but love alone can’t satisfy every need. Sometimes, to reach the goal, you have to take the chance with a . . . Blind Pass.

CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN (Prequel to Scorpions Series)By Nikki Worrell

Keith Lambert is the captain of the Flyers—until he’s not. To everyone’s shock, he’s traded to the San Diego Scorpions. As if that’s not bad enough, Phoebe, his girlfriend of two years, decides she doesn’t love him enough to follow.

All alone in a new town, Keith is drawn to Kelly, his take out delivery girl. When she shows up at ice girl tryouts, he’s lost. She’s all he can see. Can he convince her to forget her past and take a chance on him or is he destined to be alone in a new town a little bit longer?

Excerpt from Taking a Shot by Catherine Gayle“I’m going to murder that dipshit,” Dad said, but somehow his voice was growing distant, like he was moving farther away from us instead of coming closer.Jamie’s lips quirked up on one side. “Zee and Soupy hauled him out of here. Looks like they were waiting on him to come in like that. I don’t know how much longer we have before he comes back to finish me off.” He laughed. How could he laugh about something like that? “So will you? Let me take you?”“But my dad…” No matter how tempting it was to forget reason and agree to go to prom with Jamie, I knew it was nothing more than a dream. There was no chance my father would ever agree to let one of his teammates take me out, whether it was to my prom or anything else. That would be an absolute nonstarter.Jamie moved his hand, and his fingers dipped beneath the edge of my scarf. I wanted to pull away, but the look in his eye held me in place while he used nothing more than his fingertips to caress my newly bald scalp. “I’ll deal with your dad. Let me worry about that.”Maybe having no hair made my skin more sensitive, or maybe it was the effects of the chemo—I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was that my whole body was zinging with awareness from the way his fingertips were dancing over the skin an inch or two above my ear.I’d dated a few boys before. I’d been kissed and touched in various ways, and it had all been exciting and wonderful and new, but this was so different. The way he was touching me was so much more intimate, and I felt more vulnerable and scared and raw than I could ever remember feeling in my life, but I didn’t want it to end. Because it was perfect.It made me wish I wasn’t sick, that I was whole and alive and vibrant like I used to be.I wasn’t entirely sure what came over me because everything I’d said about not wanting to be the bald girl at prom was still a massive deterrent to going, and I had a very real fear that my father would do actual physical harm to Jamie, but I said, “Okay. Yes. I’ll go with you.”He smiled, one of those amazing, shy smiles he had that made his dimples come to attention and left me wanting to kiss him. “Good. Now I’d better go deal with Webs before he hurts one of the boys.”I took his hand when he pulled it away from my head, holding it in mine for just a second. “Don’t…don’t let him hurt you, either.”“Don’t worry about me,” he said, squeezing my hand and sending a flood of warmth through to every nerve ending I had.